Pawn
by Daalny
Summary: The most expendable piece on a chessboard can still gain a queen.
1. Chapter 1

I've just been informed that old Lady Grantham is in my office. I guess her status of chairwoman of the board extends for life. "May I ask to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

I watch as she grips the silver handle of her cane, "I'll get straight down to it. You know how Lord Merton likes to display his interest on all things medical, at least he likes to when in the company of Mrs. Crawley."

"Your confidence is a compliment." I say with a hint of sarcasm.

She bristles slightly, "I confide in you doctor Clarkson because I must. Only you can help."

"That is more flattering still." I say trying to keep the edge out of my voice.

"It's the families fault really. We've trained her in our ways, the earnest intellectual bon bourgeois has been replaced by a rather less definable figure."

Now I am confused, "Are you saying you liked her better when she was more middle class?"

"No, I wouldn't go that far." She states with authority.

I use my hands to try and organize my thoughts as I speak, "But you understood her better?"

Her face lights up, "Precisely! Now I do not know who she is I do not know what it is she wants."

I know what it is that the Countess wants or more precisely what she _doesn't _want, "Well there are many who wouldn't be much puzzled by the desire to marry a Lord and live in a palace. Can I ask you a personal question?"

She seems to chuckle at this, "I've lived through great wars and my share of grief I think I can manage an impertinent question from a doctor."

I take a breath through my nose before delivering, "Do you perhaps resent the idea of a change of position for Mrs. Crawley?"

Her eyes narrow, "I do not quite grasp your question. It bewilders me. But I will say this Do you wish to see her live a life devoid of industry and moral worth?"

Her question hits me hard and I answer honestly. "I do not."

She smiles slightly, "And when the glitter is tarnished you know what then a hollow existence in a large and draughty house with a man who bores her to death."

Again I speak truthfully, "It's a terrible prospect."

"So our duty is clear." She says before she rises from her chair to exit my office.

Is it? I have no clue as to what it is I am supposed to do. Days later I find that I have once again been invited to luncheon. I try and test the waters with Lord Merton, I pick a medically neutral topic of goiters. I don't want to spout statistics about amputation or delve into anything gory. He is knowledgeable about the condition. I then realize that this man can give more to Isobel than I ever could. He is rich, has a position and is interested in her interests. Spratt comes in and we stand, as we move towards the door Lord Merton speaks again about the Victorians and Isobel smiles. Yes, this man would be a fantastic match for her. I pull up short and the Dowager is there and I whisper,"The truth is they're well suited whether we like it or not and I don't believe he's faking his interest in medicine."

She inhales sharply, "I'm afraid I agree with you."

The rest of the luncheon passes and my mind is elsewhere, I'm sure I make the appropriate noises when directed to. After it's done I slip out and return the hospital. For the time being _this_ is my palace. I can be Lord here. In the days that follow I see her out in the village with him. I don't begrudge her happiness, she should have some happiness. I receive another invitation from the dowager but I decline. I state hospital business as my reason why. I refuse to be a pawn in some power play in Downton.

Luckily for me there is patient, a young boy. I hear a commotion and the screens are pushed apart and I experience Deja Vu. There is Isobel, the Dowager and Lord Merton. Jason, my patient begins to squirm.

"It's all right Jason, you're not in trouble. What can I help you with?" I ask.

The dowager is breathes harshly, "We wanted to see if we could tempt you to join us."

Jason had been bitten by one of the horses on his farm, I was in the middle of cleaning his wound. There on table next to the bed was a basin full of soiled and bloodied cotton wool and gauze. "I'm rather busy at the moment" I say as I indicate with my head to the damaged arm.

I hear a loud swallow and look up, Lord Merton is as white as a sheet. I've seen my share of fainters, "Chair" is all I say.

Mrs. Crawley knows the command and leads Lord Merton to an empty bed. She pushes his head down, "Put your head between your knees and try to breathe normally."

With the gawking crowd gone I get back to treating my patient.

With Jason's arm back together in one piece I go to my office to write up the chart. My office door opens and the dowager walks up and sits in one of the visiting chairs. I simply stare, I can't find any quippy remarks.

"You must get her to see! She can't be content with a man who wilts at the sight of blood!"

At this I actually toss my pen down onto the chart, "What would you have me do?"

"Fight for her!" is her command.

I lean back in my chair and sigh, "The day before your great grandson was born, I asked her to marry me and she refused. Now while he may 'wilt' as you say he still knows her interests, has a title and Spratt will actually acknowledge him. He has more stripes than I. Now if you'll please excuse me I need to finish this."

I turn my focus to my paper and force myself to keep it there. I hear the scraping of her chair as she moves to leave. At least hereI _am _a Lord.


	2. Chapter 2

Isobel managed to get Lord Merton back to Crawley House, she had made him some tea. "Here you go" she said as she handed him the cup, "it'll be sweet, sugar is good for shock."

"I'm dreadfully sorry...just took me off guard." He said shaking his head.

Isobel merely smiled, Lord Merton seemed more like a scared young boy. She had to admit it was nice caring for someone. The last person she had cared for in this house was Mr. Grigg. Seeing Lord Merton slouching and stuttering was the complete opposite of he had been during his proposal. She thought back to his eloquent plea.

_She had seen him approach from the garden and she invited him in. He was nervous but finally he said what he had come to say, "I really should go down on one knee but I fear I'll never get up again.I'm sure you realize by now I'm asking for you hand in Marriage. Please, please I want to be quite clear. I'm not speaking out of loneliness or a view to my comfort."_

_Isobel jumped in, "I'm sure…" _

_Lord Merton just smiled knowingly, "No, you're not. When men of my age marry that's usually the reason. But my proposal is a romantic one, I state freely and proudly Isobel that I've fallen in love with you And I want to spend what remains of my life with you in your company. I believe I could make you happy. At any rate I should very much like the chance to try."_

_Isobel was stunned, "Goodness, Lord Merton I freely admit you've taken me by surprise. Not with your proposal but with your talk of love."_

"_I mean it and before you refuse me I'd like to ask you leave it on the table so to speak say nothing for the time being...just think about it."_

At this moment she _was _thinking about it.

Any thoughts of Isobel marrying Lord Merton had been tabled by the Dowager Countess. Her daughter was in town and with that brought stirrings of something best left forgotten. At the abbey she noted how Rosamund had cloistered herself with Edith. She had just dealt with Mary's indiscretion with Lord Gillingham and now it seemed that she was once again to be embroiled with Edith.

With a word the three absconded themselves to the library.

Marigold, her third great-grandchild. So that was her name and more than that she was in the village. At this moment it might be preferable for Isobel to marry Lord Merton.

_Scandal_

For years women had been hiding children that had either been unwanted or wanted they had been unable to keep. Also during that act had destroyed families. Who would want to marry a woman who had had a child out of wedlock or had lost virtue? Secret heirs that could have estates in ruins. At least Rosamund agreed with her.

Edith seemed to be listening until Cora entered behind them and the momentum was lost. Sisyphus had failed to deliver the rock to the top. Gripping her cane the dowager resolved to have all her families foibles ironed out.

Unfortunately for the Dowager there were more stirrings from the family. This time from Robert, the rock the Dowager was pushing was growing in weight everyday.

Isobel was enjoying dinner at Dickie's. He had insisted that she call him by his name. True his name was Richard but preferred Dickie. For Isobel this was a blessing, the name already had an association in her mind. Richard brought forth images of Doctor Clarkson not Lord Merton.

As they dined on pan seared fish he spoke about a medical journal he had read on the Spanish Flu. His words had her memories firing.

_She was walking swiftly, her heels making soft bangs on the carpet. Her hand grabbed the door handle and she burst into the room, "What happened?" She demanded as her eyes swept over the room. Richard-Doctor Clarkson was there. His suit jacket had long been abandoned and his sleeves had been rolled up. "This is how I found her. It's bad, I'm afraid. Very bad."_

_Lavinia wheezed in a pathetic attempt to breathe. Doctor Clarkson gazed at the young woman, "The worst." He then looked toward Sybil and gave a slight shake of his head. On an intellectual level Isobel knew that Lavinia was dying but her heart shouted No! This wasn't supposed to happen, it couldn't happen!_

_Matthew seemed to share her sentiment, "I don't understand. When I was with her, she was talking, she was fine."_

_Doctor Clarkson seemed to soften, "It's- it's a strange disease with sudden, savage changes. I'm terribly sorry."_

_Matthew's eyes were suddenly bright, "Well, what can I do? Can I talk to her?"_

_Doctor Clarkson nodded, "Yes, of course."_

_The room had suddenly filled with people. Doctor Clarkson had turned his back to the couple to give them privacy. The other males in the room followed suit. The woman merely looked on in stunned silence. _

_Words were spoken between the two, at most only snippets could be heard. However, Isobel heard her son, "But I can't be happy. Not without you. How could I be happy?"_

_He never got an answer for Lavinia stilled, Isobel stepped forward her shaking hand raised only to stop. Her motion drew the attention of Doctor Clarkson who turned and strode without hesitation to the bed. His hand did not shake as he reached out to take the pulse of Miss Swire. After a few seconds he drew himself back to his full height but not before placing a hand on Matthew's shoulder in comfort before he withdrew. Richard had been the first to comfort her son on the death of his betrothed._

_Richard_

"Is the fish all right Isobel?" Dickie asked, his question breaking her thoughts.

"Yes, it's lovely." She said forcing herself to smile.

"I prefer Haddock but only the cod was available." He announced.

"Oh" Isobel answered back taking a sip of wine.

"Well, I'm sure you can read the article for further information."

"I'm sure I can Dickie." She answered as she took another sip of wine. She shivered slightly as a draught wound around her legs.

**A/N: This will be finished. However, I ask for patience since I'm trying to tie in more elements. Reviews let me know what you like and what you don't.**


	3. Chapter 3

Dickie was well mannered and pleasant almost to point of being annoying. However, there was no doubt that he loved her. Anything she asked for or even mentioned in passing that she liked would appear. Her favorite foods, a book she had wanted to read would become available.

They spent more and more time with one another, visiting bookshops and dining together. During the week Dickie had to visit one of his sons leaving Isobel at Crawley House. She found herself outside tending to her garden. She had been doing this when Lord Merton has come to call and propose to her.

As she deadheaded her roses she thought of reginald. Of how she felt when she had first met him, that rush of feeling. Of how she couldn't take a deep breath until she was with him. Being sick with love, that feeling inteisified with the birth of Matthew. It was as if her heart grew as her son grew. She did not have these feelings with Dickie.

Was it her age? Was it due to the fact she had lost her husband and her son? Had her grief stolen away her ability to happy?

This thought was stopped by a figure approaching her door. The individual was too short and too feminine to be Lord Merton. It was actually cousin Violet, wiping her hands on her apron she went to invite the woman in.

Tea was soon brewed the reason for Violet's visit was revealed. "I think there is something wrong with Spratt."

"Such as?"

"He's agitated, almost aggressive." Violet informed.

When Violet had first appeared she had thought it was another invitation to luncheon. However, seeing her cousin and friend talk about her servant had her worried. She remembered how Spratt had ignored Doctor Clarkson at other events. Was this the type of behavior Violet was referring to?

"Has he done anything to you?" Isobel asked.

"No, he was upset the maid left and since then he's been strange." Violet clarified.

"I'll see what I can find out." Isobel stated truthfully.

Over the next few days Isobel came to "visit" Violet to see for herself. Indeed Spratt was disengaged and defensive.

Knowing she was out of her depth she went to the one person she knew who could help. Early the next morning she Isobel left Crawley house, she knew the clinic would be open and that Doctor Clarkson might have a spare minute.

The door to his office was ajar and she looked inside. She watched as he removed his suit jacket, he moved to his left and stifled a yawn before hanging up his jacket and retrieving his white coat. With the application of some white cotton he went from man to doctor.

She knocked softly on the door frame and was bade welcome.

"Good morning Mrs. Crawley" he said genuinely, "How may I help you?"

Isobel scoffed, "Well this might be a strange patient."

Richard listened as she began describing the symptoms and what she had seen in Spratt, careful to leave his name out of it.

Richard's mind was churning, there were many conditions that could lead to behavioral changes. Disease, injury and depression to name a few. Lord knew he had seen his fair share of men invisibly crippled by war.

"Was this man a soldier?" He asked.

Isobel had to give more for Doctor Clarkson to work with, "No, this man is in service."

With that piece of information Clarkson was able to whittle down the citizens to Downton. "Would it be possible for me to exam him?"

Isobel sighed in defeat, "I'm afraid I can only think of one way."

That was how Richard Clarkson found himself invited once again to luncheon at the Dowager Countess of Grantham.


	4. Chapter 4

Opulent, that was the word that came to mind. The home of the Dowager Countess has lavish yet not vulgar. It amazed Richard that most of his cottage could fit inside the sitting room. He kept close to the wall, this position was two-fold. The first being he was away from the individuals milling about it also helped that he was being ignored so being off to the side didn't matter. The second was this position allowed him to view Spratt. So far the man wasn't displaying anything untoward. He had his own position near a wall, a silver tray in hand on upon the tray a silver coffee pot.

Isobel was in another corner with Lord Merton, she appeared to be conversation. However, she caught his eyes and she nodded minutely. Only Richard saw her movement and he felt a flush of companionship. Merton captured her attention once more and she engaged him conversation.

Lady Shackleton arrived and a flash of what looked liked annoyance passed over Spratt's face. On any other day this might not have garnered Richard's attention however, Spratt had years of experience of schooling his features into the polite mask of service. What was he doing with this display of emotion. As Lady Shackleton moved towards Isobel and Lord Merton he followed with them. Richard cleared his throat and Isobel looked up and saw him approach as well as Lady Shackleton. Polite as always Lord Merton spoke to cousin Violets friend.

It took only a few seconds for Spratt to retrieve a china cup and fill it, "M-my Lady" he stuttered as he offered her the cup. Lady Shackleton took it with a forced smile.

Richard had been holding his own cup at waist level, only a dwarf would miss the fact that his cup was empty. Spratt merely turned to leave. Lady Shackleton grunted softly, "I do believe the poor doctor here is in desperate need of some coffee!"

Spratt turned and filled the doctors cup, as he did so Richard took note of his hands. There was a muffled thump, almost lost in the din of the conversation in the room. Isobel had heard it often enough to know it was Cousin Violet banging her cane onto the carpet. Spratt heard it too and went off towards his employer.

Lady Shackleton and Lord Merton had been oblivious to the display. Lady Shackleton was speaking, "How is your garden, hope it hasn't laid to waste."

Merton smiled a little sadly, "Yes, as you know Laurel loved her garden."

The sigh from Lady Shackleton's lips was almost melodic, "Yes, Lady Merton was blessed with such a green thumb. Are you tending to it?"

"Oh, I have a gardener come in now and then. I hope to have new Lady to tend the growing blooms." He said pointedly looking towards Isobel. No one in the group could miss his meaning.

With this Richard waited before subtly checking his pocket watch, "I must go, rounds at hospital."

The O formed by the lips of Lady Shackleton was almost comical. Isobel looked stricken but knew she couldn't ask him to stay. He slipped easily between the mingling upper crust and left.

At the hospital Richard went through the ritual of hanging up his jacket and donning his white coat before he began pulling books off of his shelves and reading. The sun sank behind the hills and Richard still read. When the darkness began to encroach on his pages he switched on his desk lamp.

He was surprised when Isobel padded into his office. "Oh, come in. Sit down, I've been doing to some reading."

Isobel sat and held out her hands to receive the tome that Richard had been looking at.

"Stroke?" Isobel said almost confused.

"All right, I grant you. He doesn't seem like the typical stroke patient. However-" Richard leaned over her to swipe at some pages, "there has been research done and while Ischemic and hemorrhagic strokes are the big ones there is evidence of transient attacks, smaller attacks. This might be what is causing the problems."

Isobel's interest was peaked, "What did you see?"

Richard tilted his head and sighed, "I've seen Spratt balance a tray on his fingertips for what seems like hours. He used two hands to carry the tray today, his hand shook as he poured my coffee. Also he stammered and called Lady Shackleton 'my lady'. At the last luncheon he used her title."

Isobel regarded Richard warmly, "And from this you think he may have had a stroke?"

Richard scoffed and pointed to the other books, "He could be a diabetic and was suffering from low blood sugar, that can cause confusion and weakness."

Isobel put the book in her lap, "He hasn't seemed to have lost weight, nonetheless low blood sugar could account for confusion and trembling."

Waving his hand over his desk Isobel saw the other books open to pages on various diseases and ailments. She stood and went over to one of the other open books. Soon Isobel herself was pulling journals from the shelves. Hours passed as they bounced ideas off of one another. It wasn't until Isobel felt a hand on her shoulder that she realized that she had passed out over the latest journal article on diabetes.

"It's late, you should go home. Come on I'll walk you." Richard said in a low tone.

The village was dark, only a few street lamps illuminated the way. A stray stone caught under Isobel's heel and she stumbled. Richard steadied her and threaded her arm through his own, ten minutes later Crawley House was in sight. "I don't think Lord Merton will mind." he said.

Isobel pulled up short, "What do you mean?"

Richard was puzzled, "I don't think he would mind me escorting you, I don't think he wants you hurt."

Isobel shook her head, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."

In the dim light she looked at Richard on impulse she whispered, "kiss me."

Not one to balk at a Lady's request he took of his hat before leaning in to kiss her. His lips were dry yet warm and the feel of them had something flaring in Isobel. Dickie had kissed her before leaving to visit his sons and she had felt nothing. Dickie's kiss hadn't been bad nor had it been good. Richard's kiss was different she felt _something _and she liked it. She broke the kiss and moved to pull away not before nuzzling her nose against his. Dickie had told her that he would try to make her happy. In the time that she had spent with him what she had felt she thought was happiness but she had been wrong. What she had felt with Dickie was contentment. Right now with Richard she was happy.

Her breath left her in a harsh pant at her epiphany.

Richard's hand brushed her cheek, "Is something wrong?"

"No, something is finally right." She answered.

She could finally place her finger on what was bothering her about her relationship with Dickie. She had mistaken contentment for happiness. With contentment there was nothing wrong. However, with happiness something was _right_!

**A/N: I am in no way a medical professional, if one of you is a doctor and I'm off of the mark let me know!**


	5. Chapter 5

~Interlude~ Isobel POV

As much as I want to kiss Richard again I know I can't or at least I _shouldn't. _While I haven't give Lord Merton my answer it is still inappropriate to kiss another man while almost betrothed to one. I nuzzle him again and his sharp exhale warms my face, "Will you wait for me?"

His hand caresses my cheek and find myself leaning into his touch and humming softly. I think he knows that I don't want him to wait outside, that the wait will be deeper and more meaningful. I have to take care of things, so lost in the plans whirling in my head I almost miss his whispered, "yes." I feel my stomach flip in knowing that he _understands_.

I let myself into Crawley House and I feel renewed. I had thought that being a companion to someone would be enough. That being someones _someone _would be enough. I was a fool to think that my happiness could be filled by making someone else happy. I sigh as I climb the stairs to my bedroom.

Dickie is a good man, a decent man. We can talk for hours on various subjects from medicine to history. However, we never have a discussion. He merely differs to me. My conversation with Tom Branson springs to mind

"_It's good to be disagreed with it keeps you on your toes."_

Dickie never disagrees. Richard on the other hand...I find myself smiling in remembrance of all the times he has rolled his eyes or openly disagreed with me. Nonetheless, he has openly supported me such as during the War. I know that Violet has plans. I don't want those I care for to be treated as expendable. While I don't love Dickie I care for him and no one should be used as a pawn.

My bedroom is warm and I remove my clothes piece by piece and put on my nightgown before moving to the bathroom. I start removing the pins from my hair and think of my son. From the moment Matthew and I came here from Manchester everything we did was scrutinized. Plans within plans. I'm not stupid I know that my role here isn't finished. I'm Paternal Grandmother to the future Earl of Grantham. Whether I like it or not I'm a woman of status. It would befit me to marry Lord Merton. However, I don't love Dickie in the way that he loves me. When we started spending time together I thought that perhaps my heart had become hardened by time and loss. More so if I did marry him it would shift power to me from Violet. I do not want Violet as my enemy. I don't even want power!

I shake my head at the thought! A pin I had loosened but had neglected to remove falls my hair and falls to the floor with *click*. With a sigh I bend down to pick it up. As I straighten up I catch my reflection in the oval mirror. What do I want?

_Kiss me_

I close my eyes and relive what literally just happened moments ago. I have never been so bold with a man yet I had to know. I am still capable of love, my heart hasn't been irrevocably damaged. Now that I do know I must act. Nonetheless, it is late and I need to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Clarkson POV

The research into Spratt has been placed onto the back burner for another matter. Ms. Baxter the ladies' maid for Lady Cora has arrived to tell me a patient is on his way. When she tells me it's Mr. Barrow I wonder if his hand is bothering him? The last time I treated him was when he was attacked, when I asked Isobel to marry me.

Seeing Barrow has me standing from my desk. He is the epitome of febrile. The dark circles under his eyes highlight that his eyes have sunken a bit into his head. This man is ill. I motion him back behind a screen and direct Ms. Baxter to leave.

Abscess, I never liked the term. There are so many medical terms that I find unpleasing but this this term combined with what I am seeing. The dorsal surface is inflamed just above the iliac crest. Abscesses can be formed by bacteria, parasites or foreign substances. From the box it might be all three. I can examine them later, right now I need to drain this abscess. I take up the syringe and inject the local anaesthetic. I know it has taken hold when the white knuckle grip of Thomas's hands relaxes. A nurse nudges a wheeled tray towards me and I nod, she then removes the drape revealing a line of surgical tools. I pick up the scalpel and begin the process of draining this nasty eruption. The wound begins to drain and I pack the area with gauze. "That's it" I mutter and Mr. Barrow stands straight up and begins to put back his clothes. I make my way to the washing basin and begin to wash my hands.

I can hear the door creak open and announce, "All done"

"And it won't trouble him further?" Ms. Baxter's voice is apprehensive. I try to reassure her and also give Mr. Barrow another dose of medicine, "Not as long as he stops poisoning himself."

Baxter's shoulders sag in relief and I'm glad to see that her color is improving, I would not like to have caught a fainting ladies maid. She gestures to my desk, "You've had a look at the things he brought then?"

That box haunts me. In my career I've seen too many individuals with boxes like it. Soldiers who have taken to morphine. Even my fellow physicians have turned their arms into pincushions injected opiates. However, upon inspection I noted that none of the vials had the telltale tip of morphine. This vial was far too large. It smells like saline, I'm sure if I were map the solution with an ebullioscope it would verify my suspicions. "You've been injecting yourself with a solution of saline"

Baxter seems puzzled, "That's not harmful though? Is it?"

"It was if it wasn't sterilized." I say gently before shrugging out of my white coat. Who knows if the syringe he using over and over again wasn't contaminated with something. I grab my suit jacket and continue, "Repeated injections would cause fever, and abscess at the site. I assume this is a course of treatment you've spent money on?"

Barrow's eyes are on the ceiling, "Yes, a lot of money. I went to London for what they call electrotherapy and the pills and injections were supposed to continue the process."

His words have alarm bells ringing and I find my words leave me in a rush, "The purpose of which was?"

Once again Mr. Barrow's eyes are anywhere but on me, "To change me. To make me more like other people...other men."

Realization flares and I fiddle with my cuff, "Well I'll not be coy and pretend I don't understand, nor do I blame you. But there is no drug, no electric shock that will achieve what you want."

He seems disappointed and at the same time angry, "You mean I've been taken for a mug?"

"My advice to you Thomas, would be to accept the burden that chance has seen fit to lay upon you and fashion as a good life as you're able. Remember, harsh reality is always better than false hope." As I speak these words I find myself feeling a touch of fear.

In the evening as I prepare to leave I find I can't shake this feeling. Isobel asked me to wait and I will. Nonetheless I need to see her.

Crawley House looms, I don't even have the chance to knock for the door opens. "I saw you at the window" she tells me with a smile and invites me in.

I find my hands clumsy as I put down my bag and hang up my hat. She sees it, of course she does. Her small hands work under my overcoat to remove it before she hangs it up. Her touch is soothing yet I must know the reality no matter how harsh it is. I let this slip away once, not knowing how to say what I wanted to say. Hoping that my intent would be clear and that things would just magically fall into place. I have to say it, I have to say it _now_

"I love you."

She turns toward me, the look on her face is unreadable and I find myself unable to stop talking, "I'll wait, I can wait. I said we would sink or swim together...we can tread water too."

Her eyes are glassy now, and she moves closer towards me. I can smell her the last vestiges of the perfume she applied this morning. A subtle floral hint mixed with what I can only describe as worn leather and age...she must have been reading.

Her lips meet mine and I groan. Her touch is so welcome and so inflaming at the same time. I want to tear myself away and yet hold her closer to me. I don't want a vial and syringe in a battered metal box...I want this!

Reluctantly I do pull myself away, I said I would wait. One of her hands drifts to my cheek while the other trails down my shoulder. Her fingers then ghost across my elbow, down towards my wrist to finally land in my hand. Fingers grip mine and she tugs, I will follow her anywhere. If she led me to hell I would go. Her direction is clear as I am led to the stairs. One by one we climb them until we are at the top. Her free hand pushes on her bedroom door and she leads me inside.

She turns to face me, we are so close that our breaths are mingling.

"I love you too" She whispers back. At her declaration my eyes close and I lean my head forward to kiss her blindly. Her hands are at my neck, nimble fingers working loose my tie. I raise my own hands and together we remove suit and gown. At last we revealed to one another, adorned only in skin. We can see all the imperfections of one another, all the marks of time, and hopefully she can see that I want her desperately.

Her hand takes mine once more and I feel the bed against my knees. Moving to lie down I wait for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. As I gently stroke a hand down her flank to her hip I hear her sigh in pleasure. I want to hear more.

I lean in and kiss her. My hand is on her hip and I use it to pull her to me. Our chests meet and we both exhale sharply. The feel of skin is so unique, nothing else can match it. Isobel is warm against me. My hips snap forward brushing up against her and she emits a low moan. At this I lose myself in the desire to hear that sound again. Her arms are around me, encouraging me, securing me. My knee is between her thighs, I give a nudge and they part.

This time when my hips move forward I'm rewarded with a breathy 'oh' and I feel a sharp sensation as I realize she has gouged her fingernails into my shoulder.

I stop, she notices and then pulls me closer letting me know she's alright. She kisses me and I move. Every sigh of happiness, every moan of her joy makes my head swim. My lungs start to burn yet I still move. My back is beginning to twinge and I ignore that too. What I can't ignore is the tingling at the base of my spine. I cry out in frustration but she is there. She whispers in my ear and I'm lost.


	7. Chapter 7

_Isobel POV_

My eyes are closed and so I use my other senses. There is a soft cotton sheet on my back, warm skin underneath my front and I can feel his fingertips making patterns on my shoulder. I can smell his soap and it makes my stomach flip. This scent, I've caught whiffs of it before. During the war when we worked closely. Having my nose so close to his skin is allowing his scent to permeate me. I can hear the beating of his heart, strong and steady within his chest.

His breathing changes as he takes a deep breath. I wonder if he is going to speak. He doesn't he merely begins tracing patterns again on my shoulder again. I cuddle in closer and let the silence wrap around us like a blanket.

I still need to see Lord Merton, I think he should know that while I have great respect for him I don't love him. I love Richard. It should be simple with Dickie for we never had an understanding of that sort. There's the point to point this weekend and Violet says I have to go.

Richards hand travels closer to my spine making me sigh and push thoughts of Violet and Merton away. I want to enjoy this for as long as I can.

I must have fallen asleep for when I open my eyes next I see the smooth skin of Richard's back. He's sitting up on the edge of the bed, I sit up too and embrace him from behind. I cross my arm over his chest while my own chest makes contact with his back. He groans and turns his head to kiss me. When he pulls back I can see him smiling and I feel powerful that I was able to put that smile on his face.

"I have to go." He tells me softly.

I just nod, I'll gladly wait _for him. _I Sink back down into the bed and watch as he picks up his clothes and puts them on. It's oddly relaxing watching him put on his trousers before pulling on his shirt. His waistcoat is next, he removes his pocketwatch only to put it back. I find it odd that he has these rituals, this compulsion to check the watch that he knew was there. I'm going to enjoy learning all the superstitions he holds. When he's dressed he comes back beside the bed and pulls up the sheets. His hand reaches out and his finger trails across my bare shoulder. I wonder what secret message he is writing there.

The day passes by in bursts, I find time creeping by slowly. An hour seems to stretch as long as a day then I find that the clock has jumped three hours or more. I move closer to the front window so I can see outside. My heart rate increases when I see him. Once again I open the door before he even gets to it. He comes inside and I kiss him openly in the middle of the hall. Another benefit of having no ladies maid or butler, I can do whatever I wish in this place. I hold out my hand like I did yesterday and he takes it.

What I want that this moment more than anything is for him to use my body to write messages of love. Soon we are in my bed clad only in our skin. He whispers to me this time and I find I'm the one who cries out. He holds me close and when I feel his fingers on my shoulder I let my eyes close.

**A/N: More is coming, our garbage disposal decided to leak and break as did a pipe under our sink so I've had no sink/water/or dishwasher.**


	8. Chapter 8

Isobel POV

It's the day of the point to point and I've summoned to attend. I take a spot inside the tent and watch people mill about. I see Rose gushing over a young lad and it makes me nostaligic. I remember gushing over Reginald. My cheeks burn because I don't have to think hard about that feeling for I am now gushing over Richard. Well perhaps not gushing at my age I think that gushing is for the young. I love Richard, I want to spend what is left of my life with him. I won't have to change or become something I'm not. When I was young I was indulged by my father and my husband yet there was still an unheard command. I had to marry, had to marry well and produce heirs. That is behind me now.

I feel a pang of sorrow knowing that Matthew is in his coffin yet I quickly remember that George is alive. That dear sweet boy that hold all the promise of my son. I glance up to see Mary, as always she is bold. Her haircut has caused quite a stir. I rather like it and self consciously I touch my own hair. I watch as she mounts her house. She has decided to ride side-saddle. Mary is a such a mix of progression and tradition. She has shorn off her hair yet has decided not to ride astride like Mable Lane Fox. I wonder how long she can successfully keep one foot in two worlds.

The point to point begins and I hear the shouts and cheers. When the riders come back I'm not surprised that Mary is the first woman to cross the line. Cousin Violet comes near and I can feel the waves of frustration rolling off of her. Perhaps I should be nice and let her know I won't accept Lord Merton's proposal. Part of me wishes to do it quickly like tearing off a bandage in one rapid pull. Yet a larger part of me wants to let her squirm a little longer.

We make small talk about Mary's hair until I take a deep breath, "I've made a decision."

"have you?" See asks and I can see her fiddle with her cane.

I can feel my face splitting with a smile, "Yes, this might be my last chance at an adventure."

What Cousin Violet doesn't know is that Richard is my ticket to adventure. We've talked about traveling to continent.

Violet is still fiddling, "We'll tell everyone when we can a chance. You won't give us away?"

"No."

I smile and take a sip of my drink.

"So he doesn't bore you?" She asks exasperated.

At this I feel my face contorting in puzzlement, "Richard isn't boring."

Violet leaves and I let myself wander to memories of Richard and I.

* * *

><p>The Dowager Countess of Grantham was in a foul mood. Her cousin and friend was going to marry Lord Richard Merton. Her car took her to the abbey where a panic seemed to have gripped everyone.<p>

Tom was everyone that Edith had left. At his words a cold wind blew through Violet. She turned without being seen moving quickly as she could towards the door. Carson intercepted her and she made it known she wanted a car to take her home. Carson led her outside where she gave the driver instructions.

Yewtree farm, it had been a very long time since she had stepped onto grounds so _quaint_. She felt something she hadn't felt in years-optimism. Perhaps the child was still here and Edith had just wanted to escape Mary. As she got closer she could hear a caterwauling and the fragile optimism was carrying shattered. Mr and Mrs. Drewe looked for a better word destroyed. Violet knew that Edith had fled with her child. She resisted the urge to sigh and merely turned back around to her car.

The drive took her straight home, as she went to go inside she saw a figure near her door. A well dressed man- Lord Merton.

The shock of what Edith had done had eroded the promise she had struck with Isobel. All she could think about was Edith and the ruin that it could bring the family. Isobel marrying Lord Merton was last on her list and she had no time to entertain.

"I'm afraid I won't be hosting luncheon" she said tersely.

Lord Merton shook his head, "That wasn't why I came. I was wondering if you knew how Mrs. Crawley was?"

Violet was still in a daze, "You know she's fine, positively glowing, waiting for the right time to tell everyone."

Lord Merton stood up straight, he seemed to have grown five more inches and he smiled broadly. "Oh, I see. Well good day to you."

* * *

><p>The dining room table was always elegant however, tonight the candles seemed to burn more brightly. Isobel was seated at the head of the table, a new position for her. However, with Rose's new beau and his family along with the other guests it seemed easier that she be placed here. As she ate she noted the shy smiles between Atticus and Rose. Even Cora and Robert seemed to be getting on with Lord and Lady Sinderby.<p>

Lord Merton had been invited too seated by her left. She was glad of it, she didn't want to be seated beside him. With the point to point and the disappearance of Edith she hadn't been able to see him and tell him that she wouldn't accept his proposal. The plates would soon be cleared for the next course. Hopefully this dinner would end soon and she could tell Dickie. There was a lull in conversation, the clink of wine decanter seemed unusually loud against the cut crystal glass. This was further compounded by Dickie clapping his hands, "If I could, I would like to make an announcement."

Isobel's head snapped up, she was still in the middle of chewing. She clamped her jaw together in shock. Nevertheless Dickie ploughed on, "Sometime ago I asked Isobel to marry me and she has accepted."

Around her chairs were moving and everyone was standing. Isobel still had food in her mouth. In horror she watched as glasses were raised and she was toasted. She swallowed hastily and then gave a watery smile. Just what the hell was she going to do?

She started by cornering Violet after dinner. Everyone else were either involved in drinking by the fire or playing cards. It was easy to pin the woman by the bookcase and table.

Isobel hissed, "What did you say!"

Violet could see that Isobel was ready to pounce, "Lord Merton came round after the point to point. He asked how you were and I told him that you seemed disgustingly happy and that you were waiting to tell everyone."

Isobel covered her face with her hands. Violet saw this, "I thought you had accepted him."

"No" was Isobel's harsh reply.

Violet's confusion was growing, "But you said he didn't bore you, and that he was your last chance at adventure."

Isobel let out a barking sigh, "I said 'Richard doesn't bore me'...Dickie does."

It was Violet's turn to cringe. Shortened names, pet names! Baron Merton or as he colloquially addressed as Lord Merton was born Richard Grey and was known to those close to him as Dickie. Richard was meant for Richard Clarkson or as he was known in Violet's mind _Doctor_ Clarkson.

**A/N: The sink has been fixed. Did you know they make garbage disposals in red? Ask Batwings79 if you don't believe me.**


	9. Chapter 9

The Dowager Countess was in a quandary, everything around her seemed to be falling to pieces. Spratt and Denker were bickering, Edith still needed to be sorted if that was even an option, and then Isobel. Good intentions, the proverbial road to hell. Mary was over having tea, it amazed Violet that Mary could actual notice that something was on her mind. Her first grandchild had been such a precocious child she had then morphed into a woman arrogant, confidence and angry.

She didn't lie to Mary she told her truth that yes, if Isobel were to marry Lord Merton she would lose her friend.

Richard had been unable to see Isobel yet he was comforted that she was his. This thought was getting him through the time when they were apart. With the surprise announcement of their nuptials Richard had given Isobel a wide berth. Absently he checked his pocketwatch and smiled. By now she would probably be on the second course at the Abbey. He was still smiling when he made his way to his cottage.

The fire he had made was crackling away the soft sound nearly muffled the softer knock at his door. When he opened it he saw Isobel yet she was obviously distraught. Without a thought he pulled her inside. From the feel of her hand she was cold. He sat her in his chair and threw on another log.

"What is it? What's happened?" He asked softly.

"It's done, yet…" She murmured.

Richard's tumbler still held a healthy measure of whisky which he pressed into her hands, "Tell me."

Slowly, hauntingly she tells me of dinner. Of how Lord Merton's two sons used their words in hateful ways. Isobel Crawley a middle class woman who should remember her place and how dare she think that she should have any inkling of even _imagining_ that she could marry a Lord. Tom had spoken up for her, of course he would. How Lord Grantham could let the man who poisoned his son-in-law back at his table was a mystery to him!

Isobel's voice was steady as she continued, "Larry left the table and dinner continued. I wanted to run but I couldn't I was numb. After dinner Dickie told me not let this incident affect my decision. I turned to him and told him I couldn't marry him, I couldn't become a wedge between him and his sons and that is what I would do." She stopped just long enough to take a sip of whisky, "It's funny, I got what I wanted but it still hurts."

With that she began to sob, Richard first removed the tumbler from her hands and gathered her up into his arms. As her tears soaked through his shirt he wanted nothing more than to pummel Larry. This insult to Isobel could not go unpunished! Yet on the chessboard that was Downton he was a pawn and out of his depth. Perhaps it was time _he _invited the countess to luncheon?


	10. Chapter 10

Within the confines of his arms Isobel finally started to relax. It had been such an appalling dinner. All she could think of was Matthew. That night that Matthew had stood up tall in Tom Branson's defense and of how he wanted him as his best man. Such an ugly event had sparked something wonderful. Overtime only the memory of the good of that night had been remembered. Tonight had unlocked the ugliness, that with the new vitriol that had aimed at her made her sick. The pressure of Richard's arms tightened minutely and she asked, "What is it?"

Richard laughed,"I was just thinking of Old Lady Grantham, what she would make of all this, perhaps she'll trip him with her cane?"

Isobel returned his laugh, "Cousin Violet is not so obvious. If something were to happen it would take us awhile to know it was her." Isobel then tilted her head, "What about you?"

Richard reached out and brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes, "I would defend your honor in a heartbeat. However, I don't think you want that and I won't do what you don't want."

Isobel swallowed, part of her wanted Larry squashed but she knew that with Richard's position he couldn't demand a set of dueling pistols. She thought of how Spratt of all people had ignored him. If Spratt could ignore Richard's presence then Larry Merton and his ilk could probably do worse than slip something in a drink and get away with it! Just thinking about the situation made her tired. She rested her head against Richard's chest letting the steady rhythm of his heart steady her. She felt a weight across her back and shoulders, it was his arms holding her close.

He moved forward and she moved back, when she felt the backs of her legs against the chair she sank into it. The tumbler was then placed back into her hands, the fire was crackling and a pleasing warmth was emanating from it. She watched as Richard knelt before the fire, he moved the screen before throwing on another piece of wood. It was then that she noticed that there were two baskets of wood by the fire. Large pieces on the left and smaller pieces on the right. It was from the right hand side that Richard had grabbed a piece.

Isobel hummed softly, "cold?"

"It's juniper" Was all he said before the piece was consumed by the fire.

His remark was puzzling to her. After a few minutes the cottage began to fill with a calming scent.

The fire, whisky and this new fragrance had her eyelids drooping. If she wasn't careful she was likely to fall asleep here in the good doctor's chair. At this moment though she didn't care and she did fall asleep. Her slumber was interrupted by Richard waking her up with his fingertips caressing her cheeks.

"Come on" he said softly. He held out his hand and she took it. He led her into his bedroom and stood behind her. While he was a surgeon some of the clasps and hooks of her jewelry had him fumbling. She stood calmly while he placed her items amongst his ontop of his small dresser. A clothes hanger appeared and her gown was soon beside his suit jackets. When she had been married to Reginald their clothes had never mingled. It had been separate wardrobes for both of them. It was such a small thing, a simple thing, for her dress to be near his suits yet it felt powerful. When the bed was turned down Isobel felt a pang of hesitation after the nightmare dinner and emotional drainage that followed she was in no mood to make love. Instantly Richard was beside her, "I'll wait."

The awkwardness was over, together they arranged themselves in Richard's small bed. It wasn't until his hand began making patterns on her shoulder that she felt that she was truly home.

While romantic in nature sharing a small bed came with some difficulty. It was early in the morning when Isobel accidentally elbowed Richard in the side.

His sharp grunt had awoken Isobel. The clock on the bedside table showed the hour was just past four. Knowing that he probably wouldn't be going back to sleep he sat up, "I should probably get up."

At this Isobel felt sad, here she was forcing him out of his own bed! Linking her hands around his neck she pulled him down for a kiss. Her skin was warm from sleep and his will was weak. Holding her to him he rolled her beneath him. Isobel gasped as his lips found her neck, she then sighed as she felt him harden against her thigh. Soon sighs and gasps were all that were heard.

When she woke again she found Richard had gone. She found her dress and put it on. With her coat buttoned over it only a black hem peeked out no one would know she was wearing an evening gown.

After bathing and changing she found herself in the garden. With shears in hand she began deadheading flowers. She had been for a good portion of the day when the first delivery arrived. Flowers, blooms of every color seemed to be vying for her attention. Cards of apology from Dickie.

A quick look at the card showed that the flowers had been delivered from London. With the wedding of Lady Rose and Atticus Aldridge announced it would be sometime before she could meet with Dickie and affirm that she would _not _be marrying him.

Why did weddings bring forth such dramatics in the Crawley family? Edith had been jilted, Sybil had caused a scandal, even Mary and Matthew's wedding had nearly ended before it began! Now poor Rose! Those disgusting pictures. Then at the last possible moment the announcement from Lady Flintshire with the news of impending divorce. Isobel shuddered in remembrance of it, of how Lady Flintshire's eyes nearly gleamed with pleasure as she voice rose high in the hall. A glass appeared in front of her on a tray and voice said softly, "You look as if you need one."

Cousin Violet had spoken and gestured to the glass on the tray which Isobel took gratefully.

"Eventful day." Isobel murmured taking a sip.

"Dreadfully sorry for that." Violet said flatly.

Isobel hid her smile by taking another sip, she knew damn well that Isobel was not apologizing for _this _situation. Rose navigated the room with ease as she went to each guest. Her smile was bright and she let Rose's happiness spill over to herself. Tomorrow the two young lovers would begin their honeymoon and the rest of the families would return to their respective homes.

_Home_ Isobel thought. _Richard is my home._

The day for the unveiling had come. Isobel could not sit next to Richard, as a matter of fact he didn't sit- he stood. On the dais stood Lord Grantham and another officer in Army Uniform. There were a few in uniform but most of those gathered were in civilian dress. Doctor Clarkson was wearing a suit with his medals pinned to his chest. The tie Isobel had bought for him in London complimented the colors of his medal ribbons. He stood tall amongst the men around him. You didn't need the medals to identify which men had been in the military. The rapt posture of being attention seemed to be ingrained in those who had served. Even the soldier who had been injured sat taller in their chairs. Isobel was pleased to see all those who had gathered. Some had been soldiers and some not yet all were here for this solemn occasion.

Isobel took her attention off of her lover and turned her attention back to the memorial. Downton had not been one of the blessed villages, only a handful had seen none of the their members killed by the Great War. Matthew's name wasn't on that large piece of stone. However, there was another piece of stone in this village that did bear his name and at least she knew where he was buried. As the bugle played she thought of the other mothers that couldn't weep over their sons or husbands graves she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions in check. As the bugle stopped and the monument was revealed she felt comforted that now those mothers and wives who couldn't do what she could with her son and husband could now touch their name in reverence.


	11. Chapter 11

With the unveiling over Isobel and Richard went their separate ways. They both looked at each other with the secret knowledge that they would be together again soon. Isobel watched as Richard put on his hat before departing for the cottage. The crowd had thinned, some individuals were still encircled around the monument looking at names. The rest of the crowd was moving and Isobel let herself be swept along with them soon found herself instep with Cousin Violet. It had been an emotional unveiling for everyone. Violet herself had felt her eyes mist over at the fact that William Mason's name was on the large monument. That young footman who had sacrificed his life for Matthew. Though she had been unable to save him from conscription she had made damn sure that he could have the best death he possibly could. Bundled in a large bed in a bedroom in the Abbey, not some large cavernous bunk room in hospital. He was never left alone and was able with some strong arming from herself to depart the Earth a married man. Violet along with Mr. Mason had kept an eye on his widow the young Daisy Mason.

Isobel had seen many emotions pass over Cousin Violet's face during the unveiling and walk: Pain, sorrow and resolve. At the moment the look she wore was close to a scowl.

"Something amiss?" Isobel asked with concern.

"Denker" Violet all but spat.

At this Isobel's curiosity was piqued and her face must have shown it for she was then regaled with the servants titter about her drunken night, of how she waltzed and sang, as well as her nightly trips to what was called The Velvet Violin.

Isobel had to bite her lips to keep from grinning from the hilarity of it all. Could Spratt's condition really be from stress due to Denker? He had always been somewhat prickly yet could Denker be exacerbating something else?

This was definitely be something to discuss with Richard.

_Richard_, her mind smiled at the thought.

Her smiles were quickly wiped off of her face when she came to her home and found Lord Merton waiting for her. "Isobel, I was wondering if I could speak with you."

Isobel inwardly sighed yet opened the door and invited him inside. While it was true that she had no butler or ladies maid she did have some help. A young maid disappeared to brew some tea. When it was delivered Isobel set to pouring cups. Dickie took his cup almost hesitantly, "you're looking well."

Isobel inhaled deeply before answering, "Yes, the dedication ceremony was this morning."

Dickie's head bowed over his cup, "All those names, all those boys."

At this Isobel softened, while Dickie's status had given him a great deal of privilege he hadn't been immune to loss.

"I wanted to know if you would reconsider, now that you've had some time." Dickie murmured.

At this Isobel audibly sighed, "While I've had more time it hasn't changed my mind, in fact it has solidified my decision. You see while you and I know what it's like to lose a spouse you have no idea of what it is like to lose a child. I will not be involved in anyway in making you lose your sons. Your boys will marry and in time create grandchildren for you. Would you risk not seeing them?"

Giving him no time to answer she stood and moved to the mantle so she could see Matthew's picture more clearly, the one taken on his wedding day. Lord Merton watched as her hand rose before her right forefinger caressed the side of the frame before she spoke again, "Dickie, you deserve to be happy I'm not arguing that. However, if you marry me you won't be happy. Life is too short to be arguing with your sons. I will gladly be your friend but I won't be more than that."

Gently Lord Merton set his cup down and stood before moving towards her, "You're certain?"

"Yes, I know it may seem cruel to you." She turned her attention back to the picture of her son. "There are days when I would give anything, _anything _to have him back. I don't want you to know what it is like to have your son not speak to you and while you may argue that Larry and Tim aren't dead yet you never know what is around the corner. I don't want you to have to make the choice between them or me so I won't even let it come to that."

Merton swallowed he saw the lone tear course down Isobel's cheek.

"You won't be lonely?" He whispered.

She turned to him, her face wet yet her eyes were bright this time with happiness. "I have friends here. George is here...the people I love are here."

Dickie nodded solemnly, "You are a most noble woman Isobel Crawley. I will make the necessary arrangements."

He turned to leave, he was nearly to the door when Isobel called out, "Violet is having luncheon this Saturday...please come."

She was comforted that he nodded in agreement before leaving Crawley House.

**A/N: Not a mind reader, let me know what you like and what you don't**


	12. Chapter 12

Richard was puzzled when a formal invitation to luncheon arrived through his post slot. He considered ignoring it until he realized that Isobel would be attending. He would gladly swallow his pride and be belittled by Spratt if it meant being with Isobel.

Spratt, he found himself grinning at the thought. Isobel had told him of the scuttlebut surrounding him and Denker. His behaviour could very well be caused by the abrasive actions of the new ladies' maid. For a moment he wondered if Merton would be there, this fear was quickly pushed aside for he knew that Isobel was his. Lord Merton had been able to retract the announcement of the engagement.

Hours after the unveiling he had gone to her and found her to be a mixture of joy and grief. He had held her as she haltingly to him of the visit from Merton. As she spoke about Matthew she unknowingly gripped his shirt tighter to her. Richard just listened to her, his hands gently tracing patterns on her back to soothe her. Matthew, his name still sparked an intense reaction in both of them.

In his minds eye he could remember every detail of Matthew's broken body.

_There was nothing he could to save him, as he had been carried into the hospital Matthew's body had hung limply. The only thing he could do was clean him up before he was seen by family. He had closed those blue eyes first before taking a clean cloth and removing the blood and other grime from his face. He could have let one of the nurses do it but he didn't. Isobel had gently rejected his marriage proposal yet had gracefully given him an out. He owed it to her to prepare Matthew, so her last image of her son could be a somewhat good one. _

When her grip relaxed he was transported back to the present. He gently pushed her away from him to gain the necessary distance so he could kiss her. At his touch she hummed in contentment. Would they marry he didn't know. There were rules in Downton and he didn't have the time or the patience to deal the semantics of it all, long ago he knew his position was that of a pawn. If Isobel didn't want marriage he wasn't going to push.

When the day of the luncheon came Richard fiddled nervously with his necktie, another gift from Isobel. Even before he entered the drawing room of the Dowager Countess he could hear the chatter from inside. Smoothing down his tie once more he squared his shoulders before going inside.

Isobel was near the unlit hearth while Violet was sitting in a chair. Other guests were milling about. It was great surprise that he found a filled cup of coffee being thrust at him. Luckily for him he was able to grab the cup and angle his body so none of the liquid could spill on him. He took a sip to lower the volume in the cup lest he make a mess. A voice called to him, it was the Dowager.

"Doctor, so glad you could come." She said with looked like a smile.

All those weeks ago, when she figuratively ambushed him in his office to plead with him to intervene. He knew damn well that the Dowager feared a loss of position. However, he also knew that she and Isobel were great friends, the incident with bronchitis sprang to mind, since then they had regularly played cards with one the thought of the potential loss as Isobel as a friend frightened her more than becoming number 2 in Downton.

As Richard took another sip of coffee he wondered if anyone knew that he and Isobel were lovers? He decided that he didn't care and moved towards hearth. Isobel flashed him a dazzling smile as he stood beside her. It wasn't long before Lord Merton arrived. The conversation level in the drawing room dropped dramatically before Isobel cheerfully invited him over.

Richard smiled at this, trust Isobel to make it all better. She wasn't publicly spurning Merton, there was no outburst to report. Merton then began to cross the room to join them. Offering and olive branch himself Richard asked if Lord Merton had read any of the medical journals which had been published that month. This seemed to be right question for the two fell into conversation. The door to the drawing room opened again revealing Lady Shackleton. Isobel moved from the hearth to intercept the woman.

Isobel noted that the woman's eyes held a tinge of panic as she approached.

"Good afternoon Lady Shackleton." Isobel said warmly.

"Mrs. Crawley, good afternoon." Lady Shackleton answered back somewhat woodenly.

Isobel had prepared herself for this awkwardness. Just how were people around her supposed to act? Not long ago she had been announced as the betrothed to Lord Merton and now she wasn't. Yet here they all were in a public setting. Isobel watched as Lady Shackleton was given a cup of coffee which she played with. Isobel made a motion with her hand a soon the two women moved towards the hearth.

The two men stopped speaking at their approach. Lord Merton greeted Lady Shackleton and the two exchanged pleasantries. It didn't take long for them to engage in conversation. Isobel and Richard stood with them as they all spoke of neutral topics. In the end they all had agreed to meet for dinner at a new restaurant. That night as Isobel dozed in the intoxicating warmth of Richard's body she hoped that perhaps that _something_ would arise between Lady Shackleton and her friend Lord Merton. Life was too short to be unhappy and alone. Lady Shackleton wasn't too off-putting and her title would have Larry and Tim placated. As Richard's hand glided down her spine she snuggled closer to man beneath her, her man. Life was definitely too short to be without _this_. Warm skin, blazing kisses, soft moans and the smell of juniper soon became her world. As she was pulled close and rolled beneath the man she loved she had no regrets.


End file.
